I lie in bed with Nikolai, leaning my head against his bare chest. His dark, curly hair rubs against my smooth cheek. I love how he's both rough and pretty. A tough, royal boy who can handle his shit and look good doing it.

I try not to think about how our plan is now in shambles.

My head wouldn't look very good hanging up in the Caprion town square.

I run my fingertips up and down his hard belly, tracing the contours and indentations of his abs. Everything about his body is so taut, hard, and strong.

"So what are we gonna do?" I say. It comes out more like a statement than a question. Everything feels so uncertain right now.

He bites his lip and shakes his head slowly, deep in thought. "I have to do this the old-fashioned way."

"The old-fashioned way?" I hesitate. "You mean… killing… your father?"

I'm aghast at the idea, but part of me feels like it's the only way. I mean, the man already tried to kill me once. There's no telling what he's capable of, what he might do next. Whatever it is, it won't be good, and a man like him isn't safe to keep around.

But Nikolai shakes his head. "My little pet, if there is one thing you've taught me, it is that we must rise above. If we are to make this country a country of justice and rule of law, we must start here. We must send him before a judge and jury. They will decide his sentence."

I feel half relieved, half scared. "I guess you're right. We can't stoop down to his level."

"And," he says, pondering his words carefully, "it is not an easy thought for a son to consider killing his father. No matter what wrongs the father has perpetrated."

I snuggle my face between Nikolai's arm and ribcage. Maybe if I burrow myself deep enough inside him, all of this will just go away.

But I can't help thinking about his words, and they make sense. I'm no big fan of my parents, but if my father committed some heinous crime against me, I don't think I could bring myself to hurt him. I can understand Nikolai's struggle, and I don't blame him for the way he feels. And he's right. If we're going to get the country back on the right track, it's going to take some hard decisions. It's going to take rising above. Not going in with guns blazing, thirsty for revenge. We're going to have to be smart.

But first, we need to clear our heads.

I plant kisses on his arm, and my hand finds its way down to his waistband. Under the sheets, he's naked except for his boxers.

I slide a finger under the elastic waistband, and my fingertips brush up against his cock. It's halfway between soft and hard. But I think I can make it harder.

"Babe," I say, "Let me help you relax." I swirl my fingertips around the head of his cock. They glide over a drop of pre-cum on the tip, lubricating my fingers, making them slide smoothly.

"Do it," he says, his voice husky with need.

I tug on his boxers. "Take these off."

He reaches down, the muscles in his arm flexing and bulging as he does so. God, he's so delicious. He slides his boxers down below his knees, and his manhood springs free, now fully erect. I wrap my hand completely around the head of his cock.

"I wanna watch it shoot out," I say. "I want you to show me how much I can make you cum."

"Fuck," he says, "Then don't just talk about it. Make me cum for you, darling."

I spit in my hand, mixing my saliva with his pre-cum. I twist my hand up and down his shaft, matching my rhythm to the bucking of his hips. I know he's under a lot of stress right now, and I want to make all of that stress erupt right out of his cock. I want to please my man. I want to help him.

It doesn't take long. I jerk him for a few minutes, and his hips start to buck harder and harder, until he finally groans and whispers into my ear, "Oh, shit."

I intensify the pace of my strokes, and I feel the muscles in his cock start to throb and pulse against my palm. A stream of milky-white fluid spurts out of his cock. Fucking hell, I don't know why it turns me on so much, but it does. I feel my pussy swell as his hot seed shoots out.

I try to time my strokes to the pulses of his cock, and he shoots eight or ten thick ropes of cum all over his chest and my hand.

"Oh, Jenna," he says, breathing hard. When he's caught his breath, he says, "Lick it off your hand."

I giggle. "Excuse me?"

"I said, lick it off your hand." Well, damn. If another guy told me to do that, I'd laugh in his face and slap him with my cum hand. But with the kind of authority that Nikolai projects, I can't bring myself to say no.

I run my tongue up my forearm, the tip gliding over a long stream of clear, thin fluid.

It tastes sweet. They say that you taste sweetness with the tip of your tongue, though, so maybe it's just a coincidence. I lick one of my fingers, getting it all over my tongue this time. Nope. Still sweet. God, I love the smooth, slippery texture. I grab his still-stiff cock with my hand, and bring my lips to it. I wrap them around the head of his shaft, and I suck. I wanna get every last drop out of him.

But what he says next surprises me. He moans. "Keep going," he says, "I can get off again."

Surprised, I take my mouth off it and look at him. "But you just came!"

He puts a hand in my hair and shoves my head back toward his cock.

Oh, god. Why does that turn me on so much?

"I said, keep sucking your prince's cock."

I abide by his orders. I press the sensitive underside of his manhood against my soft inner cheek, and roll my mouth around on his cock. He moans, and I feel the veins inside rubbing against my lips.

"Oh, fuck, just like that," he says.

I do exactly as he tells me, and a few seconds later, I feel a flood of warm, sweet liquid splash against my cheek.

I steal a glance at his face, and his eyes are squeezed shut in ecstasy.

His hot seed seems to ooze out of his cock this time instead of spurting, and I love the feeling of it.

When I feel him relax, I slide my lips off his cock, making sure that nothing drips out of my mouth. I look him in the eyes, and I swallow.

The taste is amazing. Completely unlike any other guy I've ever had.

"Does that please your highness?" I ask, grinning at him.

"Yeah, it does," he growls.

I stretch out again, and lay my head next to his on the pillow. One hand lingers on his cock, and I toy with him absent-mindedly as I feel it soften. I like that it goes soft. It tells me I did my job well.

He puts an arm around me and pulls me in close. "Goddamn, you're amazing," he says. "You are the sexiest woman in this kingdom. No, on this earth."

I giggle. "I don't know about that mister."

He turns his head and looks at me. "Seriously. I mean it."

I give him a kiss on the cheek. Suddenly, he seems to have a flash of insight.

"I think I know what to do," he says, his eyes lighting up.

"What?"

"The senate meeting tomorrow. If I can convince the provincial senators that the existence of the work camps is a threat to our regional hegemony, I may be able to muster enough support for a coup."

In the morning, Nikolai wakes before I do. I see him check on baby Josh before heading to the bathroom, and then the shower comes on. I roll over in bed, trying to get comfortable and get a little more sleep. But I can't. I'm too anxious about what's going to happen today in his senate meeting.

I swing my legs out of bed and stand up, stretching. I could really go for some coffee right now, but they don't seem to have any in this palace.

I pull on sweatpants and a t-shirt from my suitcase and check on Josh. He's snoozing soundly in a basinet that Nikolai got for him. Above his head, toy wire-suspended figurines circle like a halo.

Nikolai re-emerges from the bathroom, a plush towel wrapped around his waist. He walks up to me, putting his arms around me from behind, holding me tight.

I playfully tug on the towel, but it's wrapped tight and doesn't fall down.

"Aww," I say, turning to him. But, his expression is serious. And I don't blame him. I'm trying to joke around and take some of the pressure off, but what happens today in his meeting could literally be a matter of life and death for both of us—and for the baby.

"I need you to stay put today," he says. "The guards are doubled up. We cannot afford to take any chances. I can't come running to save you from the other side of Caprion."

I turn around to face him. I grab his hand and squeeze it.

"I have total confidence in you," I say. But I know he doesn't need to hear that from me. I'm sure that he's going to take care of things today.

"Today, I want you to stay in the secret room," he says.

Ah, damn. Not that thing. "Is that really necessary?"

He nods. "No chances today." He pauses, looking solemn before speaking again. "You know, there is a chance I won't come back from this."

His words inspire fear inside me, but I don't need him to explain. I've studied politics for a long time, and I know exactly what happens after failed coup attempts. Nearly every time, it results in the offender being executed.

World leaders don't take kindly to being overthrown.

Nikolai gets dressed in a black suit with a red tie, and he looks incredibly handsome in it. I want to pin him down, pounce on him, and beg him to take us both away from this place instead of marching right into the face of danger. But I know that it has to be done. We have to unseat the King and stop the abuses happening in this country. For the good of the people. For me and him. For our baby.

"Come," he says, leading me into the secret room. He pulls the chain on the light fixture and it illuminates the barren room. It's going to be a long day, sitting in this place and twiddling my thumbs while I wait to see if Nikolai comes home. I don't really know how I'm going to manage it. I hold baby Josh tightly against my chest, putting one arm around Nikolai's shoulders, pulling him close, as if to protect our baby between the two of us. "Hey," I say softly, "If you… don't come back tonight, then what do I do?"

Without speaking, he bends over and steps off the rug he's standing on. He pulls it aside, revealing a circular compartment in the floor that looks like a manhole.

"This is a tunnel," he says. "About four miles. It will take you to a safe place, to a man who will get you to safety, no questions asked."

I gulp and nod. "You're sure it's safe?"

"By the grace of the royal crown, you shall not need to use it. But if it too fails," he says, his voice getting quieter, "Then nothing matters anyway."

Damn. This is it. This is go time. I get on my tiptoes, and plant a peck on his lips. He kisses me back, his lips lingering on mine. I know that no matter what happens, we've both done our best.

The day passes slowly while I'm squirreled away in the secret room, just as I knew it would. The air is hot and stale, the ventilation inadequate. There's only a single tiny grate in the wall, and air barely flows from it.

I lose track of the hours, wondering what's happening with Nikolai in the meeting. Wondering if he's successfully rounding up a group of elites to stand against the King, or if he's already been outed by one of them to the King's guard, handcuffed, and led away to be tried for high treason.

I try to distract my worrying mind by singing lullabies to Josh, dredging up the words to songs that I used to sing as a little girl. It shocks me that I can still remember the words to "Patty Cake."

As I'm singing to Josh, I hear a faint scratching noise in the background, and it makes my stomach start to churn. Clutching my baby, I tiptoe to the door as quietly as possible, and press my ear up against it. But I don't hear anything on the outside.

I sit down at the desk and try to conjure up the words to another lullaby, when I hear the sound again. This time it's much louder.

Nervously, I lay Josh down in the wicker basket that sits on the tabletop. I gingerly step toward the assault rifle that's propped up in the corner of the room, and pick it up by the barrel. Some instinct deep inside me is telling me to prepare myself, and I sense that something very evil is about to happen.

I slip my right hand around the rifle's grip, and hold my finger along the side of the trigger. I remember a clay shooting class I took one summer. We used single-shot shotguns in that class, not assault rifles, but one lesson stuck with me: trigger control. Never put your finger on the trigger before you're ready to shoot.

I pull the bolt back with my left hand, slowly letting it ride back into battery, chambering the first round. I'm careful not to let it slam back and make a huge racket.

The scratching noise is getting louder. I point the rifle toward the door, my heart pounding in my chest.

Then there's a crash, but the door doesn't open. Instead, the circular porthole in the floor is thrown upward and aside. A head pops up, and it's a man with cold, dark eyes. I instantly know that he's come to do harm to me or my baby. If, by some chance I am wrong, then I guess I'll have to explain myself to the devil, because I'm not taking the risk.

I train the sights right on the man's forehead, and I pull the trigger.

An internal mechanism of the rifle clicks—and then nothing.

A jam.

The man hoists himself out of the tunnel quickly, launching himself upward into the small room with me. I bring the rifle back toward my shoulder, and prepare to swing it at his head. I scream like a wounded banshee.

I will protect my baby. I will not let anything happen to him, no matter the cost.

But the man reaches out with a burly fist, grabbing the barrel of the rifle before I can hit him with it. "No!" I cry out, summoning all my strength. But it's no use. He's taller than me, stronger, and he has all the leverage on the gun.

He yanks it out of my hands. I let it go, trying to dart around him and grab Josh from the wicker basket, but the man extends his other arm and catches me across the throat.

With a roar, I twist my neck and sink my teeth into the flesh of his arm. I taste iron, and I know that I've drawn blood.

The man swears at me and the gun falls to the ground with a loud clatter. I try to squeeze out from under his arm to get to Josh, but he throws me backward against the wall. The back of my skull cracks hard against the solid stone, and I crumple to the ground, dazed.

I can only watch in horror as the man picks up the wicker basket with Josh inside, and starts to descend into the tunnel. "Stop," I try to say, but my words come out slurred, and I think I must've gotten a concussion.

"This is for the King," the man says. "If you ever want to see him alive again, get your prince and get both of yourselves out of the country. Within 48 hours."

Then, he disappears down into the tunnel with my son.

I try to channel all my energy, to stand up and chase after him, but my body won't do it. I'm injured, unable to give chase.

I belt out a mighty scream, filled with the fury of a mother's anguish. Then, I black out.

When Nikolai finds me, I'm curled up in the corner of the safe room, leaning my throbbing head against the corner of the wall.

"Jenna." There's panic in his voice, and it's the first time I've heard that from him. It would trigger panic in me as well—if I weren't already in shock.

"Jenna, where's our baby?" His voice rises. "Where is he?"

His words cause me to jump out of the trance I'm in. "They took him," I snap, tears in my eyes. "They came up from the tunnel, and they took him."

Nikolai looks around the room, scanning it for clues as to what happened. He looks at the assault rifle, safety off, laying unfired on the floor, and the now-gaping hole in the middle of the room.

"From the tunnel?" His voice is incredulous.

I nod, and try to fight back tears. "A man," I say, "a man came in. Said it was for the King. Forty-eight hours…"

He kneels down onto the balls of his feet, balancing his elbows on his knees, and steadies my shoulders in his hands. "Start from the beginning."

I fight to compose myself. "An hour ago. A man came in through the floor. Said he was sent by the King. Said he was taking our baby, and the only way we would see him again is if we leave the country in 48 hours. Nikolai," I say, still dazed, "How did they find out about Josh?"

"Damn," he mutters under his breath. "Someone must have seen him coming into the country. Jenna, stand up."

He puts his strong hands under my arms and helps me lift myself off the ground. Without him, I'd have sat there for… I don't know how long. With him, I rise from the earth as if I were a feather caught in the wind.

"But who?" I say. It's either one of his most loyal men… or Marcha.

He shakes his head. "I don't know. But we don't have time to figure it out now. The King is moving fast."

"What do you mean?" I say with a sniffle.

He shakes his head grimly. "I could not marshal the support I needed. The government elites are on the wrong side of history. They cannot be convinced to overthrow the King. They are interested only in increasing their own wealth and power, and they are happy to leave the King in power as long as their own lots continue to improve."

"Did they rat you out?"

"Undoubtedly. I have no doubt he took our baby as soon as he heard my intentions. Josh is his insurance against being overthrown. He is gambling that we will back down to save our baby."

"So what now?" I ask. "The senators aren't on your side. Do we do what he says? Leave the country?"

"I will not run from my own palace."

All I can think about is Josh right now, and Nikolai's words terrify me. "You mean you're willing to put our baby's life on the line?"

"Jenna," he says sharply. "Do not tell me you believe this man's lies. He is cunning. He will wait until we are gone, and then he will hang our baby from the flagpole. If we play by his rules, we are guaranteed to never see Josh again."

"Okay, then what?" I'm feeling panicked.

Nikolai looks at me grimly. "This changes everything. I have to go up against him. Man to man."

I can't believe this. It's coming down to a father-son confrontation, with our baby's life hanging in the balance.

"What if we follow the tunnel?" I say. "Our baby is down there." But I'm really just looking for a way to de-escalate the situation. I'm terrified that there might be a fight with our baby in the middle of it.

"No," says Nikolai. "Wherever our baby is, I guarantee you he is no longer 'down there.'"

"Why not?"

"Jenna, the tunnel leads out of the country."

I don't even ask any more questions. I'm utterly beside myself right now, and anger is exploding throughout my body.

"You," I say, snarling at Nikolai. "You let this happen. This is all because you brought us here." Deep inside, I know that it's not the truth, but I just can't help it right now. I need to lash out. I need someone—something—to blame other than myself.

"Goddamnit, Jenna. I did everything to keep you and the baby safe."

"If you'd just let me go, let me stay in America, we wouldn't be in this mess right now."

"And the people of this country wouldn't be on the verge of gaining freedom, and you would be a struggling single mother."

"I wouldn't be struggling."

Suddenly, I blurt out something that's been lurking in the back of my head. "I'm leaving."

Nikolai cocks his head, a mixture of anger and confusion on his face.

"I'm leaving when this is all over. And I'm taking Josh with me."

"I've put my neck on the line for both of you," he growls, and now he's seething too.

"You can't stop me," I say. "I'm going to take our baby back home where he can grow up in a normal life. Not in a damn Game of Thrones live action set."

"You cannot leave," he says, switching tactics. "I forbid it." The look on his face says he's terrified of losing me, and the truth is, I'm terrified of losing him too. But a mother's love has to come before everything else.

"So you're gonna stop me? I thought you were changing your tune. Letting people do as they please instead of ordering them around all the time."

"Fine," he says. "Leave if you must. Do what you have to do. But I am getting that baby back even if it means losing my own life."

He storms out of the secret room, leaving me standing up against the corner.

I'm angry, but I try to calm myself. What more is Nikolai to do, anyway? He's already pledged to rescue our baby at any cost, and if there's one man on earth who I believe is capable of following up on that promise, it's Nikolai. But I fear that now I'm going to lose both of the men in my life.

I slump back down to the ground, holding my pounding temples in my hands. I should really go to the palace doctor and have him take a look at my head, but I'm hoping it'll pass after a good night's sleep.

Shit, now there's something I haven't had in a good long while. And I don't know if I will tonight either, considering that there doesn't seem to be a single square foot in this palace that's truly safe.

Ashley is probably wondering where the hell I am right now, and what the hell I'm doing back here with the prince, after he managed to get me fired from my dream job at EDGE.

The truth is, I think I'm in love with him. And I think if he can save our baby from this crazed, insane king, that he's going to make a fine father.

Do I really want to leave? Am I really prepared to go back to my old life, with no job, no real home, and no prospects for a better future? Or am I going to stay here and stick it out with Nikolai, for better or for worse?

That's what being together with somebody is all about, right?

Yes, that's what it's all about. I start to perk up—just a little bit—because if anyone can navigate this maze of treachery and get our baby back unharmed, it's Nikolai.

I can't hold this against him.

Gritting my teeth and pulling myself up by the bootstraps, I stand up from the ground, this time using my own two feet, with no help from anyone else. I duck out of the safe room, pass through the closet, and find Nikolai in the main study. He's standing in the corner of the room, his chin cradled in his hand, deep in thought.

I step up behind him, sliding my hands around his body. I move them up his chest—god it feels good—and put them around his shoulders. I smash my cheek up against his back, wanting to feel every part of him against every part of me.

After all, his parts mixed with my parts, and they produced a beautiful outcome. A tiny little outcome who is now in dire need of our help.

"I'm sorry," I say.

He speaks without looking over his shoulder. "It's alright."

I remove my hands from his chest and put them on his back. I massage him, and I can feel how tense all of his muscles are. They're all knotted up from the stress he's been experiencing the past few weeks. I work on the knots, applying pressure.

"So," I whisper, "What do we do?"

"We have to strike now," says Nikolai, speaking slowly. "There's no time left. We have to strike hard, and we have to strike early. Before the King comes after me, too."

"Whatever happens," I say, "don't let our baby be harmed."

"I won't. I think…" his voice trails off and I can tell he's deep in thought. He thinks for a moment longer, then speaks.

"Yes," he says, his eyes brightening. I see lightbulbs going off in his head. "I know exactly how we're going to do this. Listen closely."